


Of all the churning random hearts under the sun

by intherubble



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intherubble/pseuds/intherubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>obligatory cheesy high school!au</p><p>It’s just an internal clock his mind’s always had. ‘Time since Zayn laughed at one of my stupid jokes’: minutes, hours, days, weeks, <i>years</i>.  (written April 2012)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of all the churning random hearts under the sun

**Author's Note:**

> just moving old fic all to one place.

Liam turns down the volume on his headphones for the third time. What the _hell_ is that sound? He lays on his bed and listens, eyes flicking about, the sound of his own breathing the only thing audible over the low hum of his music.

_tap_

Now his ears weren’t plugged he could tell it was coming from the window, he dogears his page of _Slaughterhouse Five_ and throws it on his pillow as he gets up.

_tap-tap_

Liam spares a second to think that it sort of sounds like someone’s throwing rocks at his window. He snorts. Accept this is real life and he isn’t Diane Court. Only when he tugs the windowpane up and pops his head out Zayn Malik is standing on his front lawn with a handful of pebbles, arm cocked back like he’s about to let another one fly.

“What. The. _Fuck_ .” Liam whispers to himself. Zayn must realize he’s finally gotten his attention because he doesn’t accidentally peg Liam in the face with a stone. He drops the clump of dirt and brushes his hands off on his pant legs, grinning up Liam with this stupidly bright smile that would probably be captivating in most situations. Including this one.

Zayn puts a finger to his lips, like Liam could even formulate words right now if he wanted to, then his grin goes lopsided and he’s jogging the couple of steps to Liam’s front porch. the overhang blocks Liam’s view of him but he has a pretty good idea what’s going on by the squeak of sneakers on metal and the quiet huff of exertion he hears. sure enough a few seconds later Zayn is hoisting himself over the ledge, a little breathless but meeting Liam’s eyes with a shameless wink as he shimmies his ass onto firmer ground. Then he’s crawling the last few feet to Liam’s window, teeth glinting in the dull glow of suburban street lamps.

He plants his hands on the underside of the raised pane and leans his head forward through them, his elbow jutting out and his cotton-tee pulling tight across his chest, and it gives Liam a view of the tattoos scattered up his forearms. Liam sways back as Zayn moves forward; when Zayn smiles this time there’s a tilt of uncertainty to it for the first time and Liam thinks Zayn is, consciously or not, keeping him from slamming the window in his face unless Liam’s seriously considering decapitating him.

Zayn’s face goes more hopeful when he says, “Always wished I was tall enough to do that when we were younger.” And Liam can’t help but let something that feels like fondness loosen his clenched fists. He hadn’t realized he was so tense, his knuckles almost as white as the paint of the windowsill. “So... it’s been awhile since we’ve hung out.”

“Six years,” Liam says slowly, slightly ashamed that he doesn’t need time to count on his fingers to know the number. It’s just an internal clock his mind’s always had. ‘Time since Zayn laughed at one of my stupid jokes’: minutes, hours, days, weeks, _years_ .

-

Liam’s not sure how it happened but at some point Zayn became his self appointed protector. His _Kermit the Frog_ lunchbox was never stolen and he always seemed to have the first pick of all the unbroken or gnarled crayons at arts-n’-crafts time. Zayn got detention for a month when he threw all the cafeteria’s spoons in the dumpster behind the playground.

One of the bigger boys tripped Liam once and he fell, scraping his hand on the schoolyard blacktop, blood beading at the cracks of thin red lines. Later, Zayn threatened the boy with safety scissors then tried to cut his own palm with them so he and Liam could be ‘blood brothers’. Liam wouldn’t admit it at the time but he was secretly relieved when it didn’t work, he was pretty sure that’s how you got infections, but mostly because he didn’t want Zayn hurting himself over him. Liam couldn’t understand why he would want to.

In the fourth grade Zayn’s parents got divorced and his mom moved him and his sisters to a smaller house across town. It wasn’t that far of a move but they couldn’t walk to each other’s houses and were districted into different schools the next year.

The last day of summer Zayn tied a long blade of grass around Liam’s ring finger and kissed him on the cheek so quickly it was more just him knocking his face to the side of Liam’s.

-

They were funneled to the same high school in ninth grade and the first time Liam saw Zayn in four years was almost tripping into him as Zayn stumbled out of a bathroom stall tangled with a girl two years older than them.

Zayn looked different, puberty will do that of course, Liam’s sure he did too. But by then Zayn had both his ears pierced, stubble shading a chin Liam didn’t remember being so prominent and, at the time, red splotches dotting up the skin of this neck.

-

Liam would like to feel betrayed that they didn’t start being friends again, now they had cell phones and the internet, now that distance wasn’t an excuse. but that would only be fair if he had actually made an effort. That time in the bathroom Zayn had just spared him a smirk, eyes flashing in something like recognition, before tugging the blushing girl behind him by the waist out the door.

They didn’t have any of the same classes and Liam found himself choking on his own tongue when he tried to approach Zayn at this locker, face going hot before giving up, ducking his head and pretending Zayn hadn’t been looking straight at him. He’s pretty sure the only thing that would have come tumbling out of this mouth would have been something along the lines of _hey remember that time in third grade you asked me to marry you?_ he’d rather have Zayn act like he doesn’t exist than be creeped out by him.

-

Sometimes it surprised Liam how often he ran into Zayn in the halls. He earned volunteer service hours by working in the main office and might have snuck a look at Zayn’s schedule when one of the chatty secretaries wasn’t paying attention. It’s not like he memorized it or anything. It just doesn’t make sense for Zayn to be loitering around the math hallway where Liam has Pre-Calc when apparently he should be heading to English, on the other side of the building and a floor up.

Zayn always smokes cigarettes in the parking lot after school, sitting on the hood of his dad’s old corvette that he got for his sixteenth birthday, a different girl tucked under his elbow every other week. Liam cuts by there with Niall to walk home and sometimes he can _feel_ Zayn looking at him, this hot presence on the back of his neck, and whatever Niall is going on about will fade into a muted garble. Liam will try and stare a hole through his converse but then his head will instinctively snap up at the sounds of yelling, only to have it be from Zayn’s friends Harry and Louis trying to lick each other’s faces or something. Zayn’s never watching them though, he’ll always have his eyes trained on Liam while no one else in his group pays him and Niall any mind. Sometimes Zayn will puff out a cloud of smoke while they hold this weird intense prolonged eye contact, sometimes Zayn’s lips will curl into that smirk again, sometimes it slides into something more like a smile.

On those days Liam dreams he hears the sound of a beat up muffler outside his house.

-

But now here Zayn is in his room, trailing his fingers over the spines of novels on Liam’s bookshelf, like it’s normal. Like they aren’t strangers to each other.

“What are you doing here?” Liam feels it’s something that needs to be asked, but his mouth fights him the entire way, deep down he doesn’t want to question it. Zayn’s eyes flick to his, big glassy and startled, as if he had expected Liam to just act like he was happy to see him. A slow grin spreads across Zayn’s face as he looks him over though, and Liam’s heart speeds up, trying to figure out what’s so amusing. Zayn takes a few steps across the room towards him and Liam shoves his hands in his hoodie pouch defensively. Then Zayn’s just reaches out cautiously, fingers looking like they’re going for one of the loose curls hanging like a mop by Liam’s ear but Liam shies away from it, unsure.

Zayn’s smile dims a bit but then it’s back brighter and his hand is moving again; before Liam knows what’s happening there’s a thumb pressing firmly against his pulsepoint, the rest of Zayn’s fingers curling around his straining shoulder muscle, making his throat constrict. Zayn huffs out a quiet laugh and Liam can only think disjointedly _What. Is. Going. On._ “It got bigger.”

“ _Wha-?_ ” is out of Liam’s mouth before he realizes with a start that Zayn’s thumb, now moving slightly in an almost stroke, is covering his birthmark. Zayn apparently took the time Liam’s off guard to step closer because he’s suddenly crowding Liam’s field of vision. He can taste the air coming off Zayn, cloying like tobacco and aftershave and something stronger, and Liam is knocking Zayn’s hand off his neck, embarrassed because the other boy can probably feel the flush spreading up his skin. “Are you _drunk_ ?”

Zayn snorts, “No.” but when Liam doesn’t look amused he takes a step back, flexing his hands in the air, “Maybe... doesn’t matter.”

Liam’s a little incredulous at that, “It doesn’t matter you’re drunkenly crawling through my bedroom window in the middle of the night when I barely know you?” It looks like it’s as painful for Zayn to hear as it is for him to say but it’s the truth, he doesn’t know Zayn or why he’s here. but Zayn looks chastised at that, eyes losing some of their light, coming down off whatever endorphin high brought him this far.

“Don’t be-” but Liam interrupts him. “What do you want?” firmer this time like he’s gotten a hold of his emotions and realizes he should be putting a stop to whatever this is. Despite that, Zayn’s bringing back that overconfident expression, hundred watt smile, and stepping into Liam’s space again.

“Haven’t you seen pretty much any teen movie ever?” He sounds more gentle than snide and Liam shuffles back as Zayn comes slowly closer.

“I don’t see wha-,” Liam seriously hates himself for stammering and not holding his ground, despairing at ever getting control of the situation again.

“I’m the handsome delinquent with a heart of gold,” Zayn’s speaking so softly, somewhere between a murmur and a whisper, but when Liam snorts Zayn grins wider, “and you’re the cute nerd who thinks no one notices him.” Liam thinks his lungs might have stopped functioning and Zayn’s smile looks fragile hanging on his face, waiting.

“You dont-” and Zayn is reaching up again, without a doubt going for Liam’s hair this time but Liam is too stunned to stop him when Zayn tugs at one of his curls, “you can’t _say_ shit like that.”

The corners of Zayn’s mouth are surer now, “Why not?” Liam grabs at Zayn’s hand again but he’s ashamed of the fact that instead of smacking it away he just pulls it down and holds it at his side.

“Because you haven’t spoken to me-”

“You haven’t spoken to me either,” Zayn cuts in smoothly but he doesn’t sound accusing, maybe just a little sad. Liam pretends to not notice that Zayn’s slowly turned his hand so he can slot their fingers together loosely.

“How do I know,” Liam starts weakly, his resolve is slipping and they both know it, he can see Zayn fighting not to look smug, “How do I know this isn’t some type of joke?”

“How...,” Zayn actually looks surprised that’s what Liam had been thinking, "Why would I be throwing rocks at your window like a jackass and trying to get into your pants as a joke?”

Liam bites his lip at Zayn saying exactly what he’s after, a blush creeping down his chest, “Because.” Zayn raises his eyebrows teasingly pulling on Liam’s hand, bringing them that much closer. Liam ducks his head, feeling a hot crush of embarrassment, but Zayn is tipping his chin back up with a knuckle, “because you’ve seen me _looking_ at you.”

Zayn’s laugh is barely there, soft and breathy, “Well then that means you have to have seen me looking at _you_ .” But Liam isn’t convinced and apparently Zayn can tell. He chews on his tongue for a second, looks like he’s debating something and biting back a grin, swings their linked hands back and forth. Then he’s untangling their fingers so he can dig in his pocket, watching Liam with this bemused expression, “Here.”

He unfurls his palm between them and all that’s there is a crumpled blade of grass. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to go for this cheesy of a move,” Zayn huffs but Liam’s just staring down at it sort of awestruck. When Liam looks disbelievingly up to meet Zayn’s hesitant smile Zayn says, “Here, give me your hand.” Liam doesn’t move at first so Zayn grabs it himself, ties the stem around Liam’s ringfinger with an oddly serious face, tongue poking out between his teeth.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” Liam asks quietly, still a little dumbstruck. They make eye contact and Zayn’s hand trails from Liam’s own to his chest and up, tangling in the strings of Liam’s hoodie.

“Yes,” Zayn says simply and earnestly. Then he’s tugging Liam forward gently, stopping just when their noses brush, “I’d very much like-” Liam closes the gap, pressing his lips to Zayn’s moving ones to shut him up. He hears Zayn make a pleased noise in the back of his throat and feels a hand settle on his hip.


End file.
